The 'process notes' pieces were originally solicited by Maw Shein Win as addendum to her teaching particular poems and poetry collections for various workshops and classes. This process note and poems by devorah major are part of her curriculum for Maker, Mentor, Muse and her poetry classes at the University of San Francisco. Thanks for reading.
Of course, there is a reason why this poem is first and that one second and then that other one closes the book. Many people do not, at least initially, read each, or possibly any book of poetry in the order it was constructed. A poet friend of mine always reads the first poem and then the last and then returns to the beginning and reads the book in the poet’s created order. I cut a book open (think of cutting a bible) and read whatever poem reveals itself to me. I move to the poem after it and the one before. I then also read the first and last poems and from there decide if I will follow the pre-planned road or roam around the book as I will. I have no idea when or why I created this way of getting to know a volume of poetry. I do think that my reading style has shaped my process in wanting to create a good read that will naturally, seamlessly carry the poem from each poem to the next.
That said, when deconstructing my process of creating califia’s daughter, I started with my intention, which was to create a (more) personal book that revealed more of myself than I typically do and also continually placed me, placed the we who is called humanity in a context which stretched, like us, to and from the stars. Although it has sections, they are untitled. I wanted to create the sense of a road turning more than different rooms in one house. Thus, creating and defining the earth, cosmos, us, me is followed by poems about family and connections to the land, the past, followed by language, silences and death, and culminating in love. Yet the poems overlap these divisions and create other pathways.
We each are born in a place and that gives shape and substance to who we are and may make us see who and what we are and are not. I was born, raised and have lived my life in California, a land replete with myth, mystery, history hidden and denied and a plethora of cultures and languages, rhythms and environments that seem to encourage one to look in and out.
While Turtle Island may loosely define the United States of America land mass, California has no one indigenous name. The Spanish, however, were steadily giving out names to counties, coastlines and the state as a whole. I found it fascinating to learn that California itself was named after a (possibly) mythical African queen named Califia. Although I knew from my own history classes and readings, chief among them They Came Before Columbus by esteemed historian Ivan Van Sertima, that people of African descent had arrived on this continent before Europeans. In fact, the Mandinka, the people from who the Califia story comes, had reached Southern California in the 16th century, I did not know that California’s name had African roots, as do I. Also, my recent, one hundred fifty plus years, family are (Caribbean) island people. Thus, in multiple ways I am a daughter of Califia.
califia’s song
my heart does not
sing songs
of hate, fear, or
regret
for my name will
be braided
into the
lightening of time
califia, daughter
of sea‑faring
mandinka
queen of amazon
defenders
tamer of wild
beasts
i have ridden the
backs of griffins
to come to these
rocks
where clothed in
sea crystals
draped gold and
the evening’s wind
i savor freedom’s
harvest
Defining and creating these strands of overlapping and inter-laced poems was fairly organic. Putting califia’s daughter together was for me not unlike what I understand as considerations in the making of a quilt. I did not have a preset pattern but did want to create more than a random patchwork, which admittedly does have its own beauty. As with a quilt the textures and colors had to be considered, the rhythms that were created by putting this swatch next to that had to be evaluated. I picked a number of poems which my gut told me went together and then printed them and read them often out loud looking for patterns, correspondence and conflicts. I read and sorted creating three poem stacks and piled poems into a “yes” pile into where I saw a concordance, near a pile of maybes, and then finally a pile of nos. I then used the yes poems to establish streams or paths and went through the maybes to see if any fit those streams. Then I returned to my computer files and sometimes journals to mine more appropriate poems. Throughout all of this I am editing and re-editing not just the poems’ flow but each individual poem. When placed in proximity to another I can often see the rough edges of a poem with more clarity, become aware of the over-used word, the flaccid ending or trite opening. After all of that I look for gaps in the through line and find poems to fill those spaces. Overlapping the sections, as mentioned above, were cross threads, not unlike weft and warp of a woven cloth. As you can see, textiles, made of multiple parts and often colors informed my thinking on the construction of this book of poetry.
califia’s
daughter,
in its own way, travels from birthing as place
earth
memories
water
heat
color
everywhere
wings
fur
flesh
roots
gossamer and rope
seed sea
loam and sand
an infinite
ability
to birth
to heal
to kill
to die
the shape of wind
its sound
creation paradox
we hold the
great-great
grandparents of
our ancestors'
grandparents
in our
bloodstreams
in our stomachs
in our hearts
thousands of
years
rest inside our
souls
in those years
lives the record
of our beginning
it is the
sweetest marrow in our spine
the
cleanest shine in our eyes
the open side of
our laughter
you can read it
in the lines
on the soles of
our feet
when we retell
the stories
of where we came
from
we draw back tree
branches
to find hidden
fruits which we savor
pointed thorns
which make us bleed
the yesterdays
that led to here
the here that
leads to tomorrow
when we go back
to the beginning
we find the stars
in the beginning
there was a time
we all say
when we were not
after that time we became
we were created
we were molded
we were spat out
we were sung into
until we learned
how to make
what to form
where to spit
why to sing
but once
long ago
in the beginning
there was only
one
and from the one
others were born
and out of those
many
came us
that is the story
we all tell
but
before that
beginning
before the in the
beginning
beginning when we
were born
there must have
been
another beginning
before the spider
crafting web
laying sixteen
eggs
before the
mountain birthing lovers
birthing children
before the sky
settling low
to mate with
earth
before light
before darkness
before breath
even
there must have
been
another beginning
a beginning that
lives
in a place we
call
unknowable
yet is braided
into our
genealogies
and it is said
that
it is in this
beginning
the beginning
before our beginning
it is there that
you must go
if you want to
find
the faces of god
thousands of
years
thousands and
thousands of years
rest inside our
souls,
to growth and ancestry,
returning home
1.
a boy
in khaki shorts and sandals,
loped
down the packed dirt road
black
skin sweating years of sun kisses
a large
package balanced on his head
as we
rode to aunt margaret’s new providence house
with
her avocado trees weighted with ripe fruit
africa i queried my
father, who drove the tree-lined narrow street
bahamas he answered, but yes in many ways the same, home
2.
eleuthera
rocky and green, dressed in smooth white and pink beaches
adorned
with empty conch shells humming deeply, home
the
ancestors accepted this long thin island as their home
despite
hurricane whirl and growl, our family was planted
and we
grew thick and lush, spreading branches
bearing
fruit under her skirts until she gently
urged us out
through deaths
only
in dreams
for my father
only in
dreams
your
voice the silence of a dark cave
your
skin walnut brown wrinkled around smiling eyes
your
voice the silence of a dark cave
who you
are/were is the lesson of stars, distant galaxies
the jar
of spices- paprika, rubbed sage, garlic granules needs replenishing
who you
are/were is the lesson of stars, distant galaxies
i am
caught up in tears odd moments, feeling absence as chasm
knowing
my shape twisted and sublime is a constant reflection of you
i am
caught up in tears odd moments, feeling absence as chasm
yet you
still bring me the orange of nasturtiums, the sweetness of plum
it’s
like when I was a child and everything was forever new
you
still bring me the orange of nasturtiums, the sweetness of plum
your
skin walnut brown wrinkled around smiling eyes
only in
dreams
to conversations surrounding life and lives
ending with love which, for me, is the glue of it all.
with
arms open
i
embrace you love
though
i have at times
hidden
from your touch
because
i thought you smothered me
required
that i be the air
for
others to breathe
the
water for others to drink
i
embrace you love
though
i have at times
denied
your advances
knowing
that for me to accept your gifts
i must
offer those of my own
i
embrace you love
having
known you
as
ladder and crutch
when i
wanted to dance,
to
walk, to sit in stillness
i
embrace the dreams you send me
and the
tears that spill in moments
when
you crack open my heart
to
remind me how full it is
of star
shine and silk
i
embrace you love
who
will not catch me when i fall
but
instead advise me to swim
in your
surging waters
i
embrace you love
though
you know no forgetting
and
insist i continue to feed
on your
fruit of forever
ever
more powerful
you
make me claim you
as
intimate companion
To conclude my process for writing
this book was organic, intentional and intuitive, was a form of weaving, of
quilting of braiding, was walking down connected roads to see where they met,
was trusting that the poems would lead me where I needed to go.
devorah major June 2024
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Maw Shein Win’s most
recent poetry collection is Storage Unit for the Spirit House (Omnidawn)
which was nominated for the Northern California Book Award in Poetry,
longlisted for the PEN America Open Book Award, and shortlisted for CALIBA's
Golden Poppy Award for Poetry. She is the inaugural poet laureate of El
Cerrito, CA. Win's previous books include full-length poetry collection Invisible
Gifts and two chapbooks, Ruins of a glittering palace and Score and
Bone. Win often collaborates with visual artists, musicians, and other writers
and her Process Note Series features poets on their process. She teaches in the
MFA Program at the University of San Francisco. Along with Dawn Angelicca
Barcelona and Mary Volmer, she is a co-founder of Maker, Mentor, Muse, a new
literary community. Win’s full-length collection Percussing the Thinking Jar
(Omnidawn) is forthcoming in Fall 2024. mawsheinwin.com
